


Dinner at Bobby's

by groaninlynch (orphan_account)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Domestic, Fluff, Gen, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-10-06
Updated: 2012-10-06
Packaged: 2017-11-15 17:39:21
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,048
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/529891
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/groaninlynch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>An archangel, an angel, and two hunters have dinner at a grumpy old drunk's house.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dinner at Bobby's

There are two things in this world that Dean Winchester currently hates. First is his stupid younger brother, Sam, for being moronic and irrational. And second is that fucking trickster turned pagan god turned archangel, Gabriel, for taking advantage of Sam’s idiocy. And he hates them both equally for being annoying and obnoxious.

Dean is presently sitting on the couch in Bobby’s living room, arms crossed over his chest, glowering at those two. They’re in the kitchen, bustling about, making God knows what and being loud as hell about it. There are all kinds of sweet and spicy scents coming out of there, scents Dean will swear up and down smell totally not good at all.

Neither of them comes out to ask if Dean wants to help, and Dean sure ain’t offering. So he just sits there, listening to their laughter and the clanging of dishes, occasionally catching a glimpse of one of them when they appear in his line of sight, usually covered in some powdery substance or another.

They were only boarding up in Bobby’s because there weren’t any pressing cases that needed investigating. But goddamn did Dean wish there was something, _anything_ , that could let him escape this candy and rainbows hell.

The press of something cold against his cheek startles Dean out of his train of angry thoughts. He looks up into contemplative blue eyes, taking the beer that is being handed to him.

“I had a feeling you would be needing one of those,” Castiel says gruffly as he shrugs off his trench coat and sits beside Dean on the couch.

Dean’s attention is now completely on the angel next to him; he’s still taken aback by Castiel’s display of human mannerisms. It’s honestly sort of freaky, watching him place his ever-present trench coat on the arm of the couch before he sinks back into the cushions. Dean can’t decide whether it’s kind of cool, or just really sad.

“Thanks,” he replies, taking a swig before placing it on the floor. A loud crash comes from the kitchen, followed by a bark of laughter from Sam. Dean groans internally and crosses his arms again.

This earns an incredulous yet curious look from Cas. He asks Dean what’s the matter, to which he responds, “ _They’re_  what’s the matter.”

Cas tilts his head to the side. “They are only cooking. How is that an issue?”

“’Cus they’re being fucking obnoxious!”

Cas’ eyes get bright, the way they do when he’s smiling without actually smiling. “There’s no need to be profane, Dean.”

“Whatever,” Dean mumbles. He leans over, picks up his drink, takes another gulp. There’s really no point in trying to rationalize with Cas about this kind of thing. Even though the angel has been heavily influenced by his time around humans, there are still things that he just won’t ever understand. Frustrating as that may be at times.

However, there  _are_  some things Cas can figure out for himself. Things like affection. As Dean settles back into the couch, Cas scoots closer to him and puts his head lightly on Dean’s shoulder. Dean can’t help himself from pulling Cas in with an arm, smiling into the angel’s hair.

Another explosion of laughter and a burning smell tinging the wave of sweetness from the kitchen, but Dean bites back a snide comment in favor of letting Cas snuggle his face into Dean’s neck, which Dean finds horribly adorable. And Dean Winchester does not use the word adorable. Ever.

~

“Is there any sugar left?” Gabriel traipses over to the other side of the room, glancing at the messy counter.

Sam comes up behind Gabriel and runs his fingers through the angel’s hair, grinning. “Pretty sure the rest of it’s in your hair, man.”

Gabriel scrunches up his nose. “Ah, well. We’re just about done anyway.”

Sam takes a look around the kitchen. It’s a rare day off, with no ghosts and ghouls causing a ruckus, and Gabriel suggested they spend it cooking, just for the sake of doing it. Now the table at the centre of the room is occupied by Sam’s “actual” food that they’ll eat for dinner, and Gabriel’s sweets that they’ll have right after. There are all kinds of left-over ingredients littering the floors, counters, sticking to the cabinets. They weren’t exactly intent on keeping the place clean, because, as Gabriel had said when trying to convince Sam, what’s the fun in that? (Although Sam  _had_  made sure Gabe asked Bobby permission to use his kitchen, who’d grudgingly agreed because eventually anyone gets sick of take-out and beer. Except maybe Dean.)

“I’m so glad we’re gonna be eating legitimate food for a change,” Sam comments as he starts to wipe flour off of the counter.

“Yeah,” Gabriel replies from somewhere behind him, “I’m a genius.” Sam can just hear the smirk in his voice.

“You’re full of it,” Sam says, maneuvering around Gabriel expertly to get to another spot to clean up, as if they’ve been doing this for years. Sam doesn’t keep himself from smiling at that thought.

Gabriel grabs the cloth Sam’s using on the counter out of his hand. “I’ll take care of this,” he says. “You go round up the kids for supper.”

Sam snorts. “I don’t think Bobby qualifies as a kid, Gabriel.”

“Compared to a being as old as time, yeah, I think he does.” He makes a face like, _Duh_ ,  _obvious_. “Now scoot, before all our hard work goes to waste.”

Sam rolls his eyes but starts to walk into the living room. He stops short of crossing the doorway at the sight before him.

He’s not really surprised to see Dean and Cas together on the couch, though he will admit he  _is_  a little shocked to see the angel lying over Sam’s brother, their faces pressed close together. It’s honestly kinda sweet, save for the part where that’s _Dean_. And in any case, his brother looks entirely too happy with himself, so Sam figures it’s time for the little bro to run some interference.

“Oh my, Deana, looks like you got yourself  _quite_  the catch,” Sam lilts as he slides into the room. He almost pisses himself laughing when Cas suddenly disappears amidst the sound of fluttering feathers, leaving Dean lying there looking horrified and angry.

“Fuck you very much, Samantha!” Dean cries as he sits up. “What’d you do that for? Christ!”

Sam grins. “I  _am_  your brother y’know. I live to make you miserable.”

“I hate you.”

“I know ya do. Now do me a favor and go find Bobby. We’re gonna be eating soon.”

Dean makes a sound of protest. “Why do I have to get ‘im?”

“’Cus I cooked. Don’t be a baby.”

His brother grudgingly stands, picking up the beer that was stood near the couch’s leg. Before he walks outside to get Bobby, he turns.

“Bitch,” he says.

“Jerk,” Sam replies, smiling.

~

Castiel stands completely still in a green field, watching the old man fly his kite contentedly. Castiel hadn’t consciously decided to come here, his favorite Heaven to visit. Something in him had screamed to run when Sam entered the room, so here he found himself a couple seconds later.

The angel found that strange, really. He didn’t have anything against the Winchester boy, so why had he suddenly felt the need to flee? He supposed it was a reaction from his vessel’s body; it certainly had been acting up to something, as Castiel had felt the heart in it pounding.

Castiel decides to chalk it up to humans being bizarre, curious things and leave it at that.

So that’s where Castiel is, calmly surveying the Heaven he is in, still feeling a little off, when he hears Dean’s voice creep into his mind.

Thousands upon thousands of people pray to him, believe it or not, despite being one of the lesser known angels. Castiel hears each and every word of their prayers, whether he answers them or not. He still hears them when he is on Earth, just – toned down, he might say. All the voices get jumbled sometimes, and Castiel has gotten good at not paying particular attention to them all the time (even if he’s supposed to).

However, when it comes to Dean Winchester, Castiel hears him loud and clear every time he prays, as if the human is right there next to Castiel. Amidst all of the other voices, shouting and crying, all Dean has to do is whisper for Castiel to hear it.

 _Where for art thou, Castiel?_ Dean is muttering now _. Come on back, Cas, or we’re gonna start without’cha._

Castiel appears in front of Dean half of a thought later, outside on Bobby’s porch. The sun is setting, the sky purpling, and without his trenchcoat Castiel finds he is actually somewhat chilly.

Dean pulls Castiel into his arms when the angel shivers. “Hey,” he sighs into Castiel’s hair.

“Hello, Dean,” he says softly, unconsciously sinking into the embrace.

“Where’dja go off to before?”

Castiel turns so that his back is against Dean’s chest and stares at where stars have begun appearing in the dimming sky. “Heaven.”

“Why?” Dean queries as he envelops Castiel again.

“I…” Castiel shakes his head slightly. “I am not sure. When Sam walked into the living room, I felt this overwhelming need to escape. So I suppose that’s just what I did.”

Dean’s fond chuckle met Castiel’s ear with a kiss. “Seems like you got embarrassed, Cas.”

Castiel looks up at Dean, furrows his brow. “Embarrassed? How so?”

“Forget it,” Dean responds. “Just another part of being human.”

Castiel  _had_  noticed that, recently, he’d been taking on human-like qualities. Some of it he liked, such as smiling and laughing, actually  _being_  happy, living the word instead of just acknowledging it. But with that came other feelings, ones that he didn’t know the name of quite yet but made him miserable. He wished he could have all of the wonderful ones without having to be weighed down by the horrible ones.

“I don’t really like being human, Dean,” Castiel whispers, still staring out into the distance; into Heaven.

Dean rests his chin on Castiel’s shoulder and says, “Yeah, well.” Pauses, sighs. “Neither do the rest of us.”

~

Bobby Singer isn’t quite sure how how his kitchen table came to seat two angels and both of John Winchester’s boys, but here they are, like it’s the most normal occurrence in the world. Which maybe, considering all that’s happened thus far, it is.

He sits at the head of the table, Sam and Gabriel to his right, Dean and Cas to his left. Bobby feels rather like the father of a bunch of unruly, prepubescent teenagers, what with the childish banter that’s going from side to side, mostly between Gabriel and Dean. Old as he is and well enough as he knows this group now, he decides that maybe his input would be unnecessary. No point in trying to stop a freight train coming down the line at full speed. So he sits, digging into a bowl of mash potatoes that taste almost unfairly amazing, keeping himself out of the conversation.

“You’re just being sensitive, bro,” Gabriel – a  _freakin’_  archangel, sitting at his table, who’da thought Bobby’d see the day, good grief – is telling Dean.

“Do  _not_ call me bro,” Dean growls. “And I’m not being sensitive. I think I have a right to wonder why  _you_  of  _all people_  are here, with us, like it’s  _perfectly_   _okay_.”

“I’m not a people, I’m an angel.”

 _“Oh my God._ ”

“Wrong again, kiddo.” Gabriel smirks when Cas has to physically restrain Dean from getting up and pummeling the guy. Sam just rolls his eyes, too used to the bickering to give a damn, and continues to eat his green beans. Cas gently chides Dean for being so unreasonable and tells him to keep eating, which Dean, to Bobby’s perpetual awe, obeys.

This is another thing that has changed recently. This, this relationship thing that’s going on between Dean and Cas, Sam and Gabriel. Bobby would never say it out loud, but he did suspect such of Sam. But Dean?

Not that there’s anything wrong with it, and then again angels are considered genderless, yet Bobby honestly thought Dean wouldn’t be able to see past such bodily barriers. Although –

Although that boy always was a bit too gun-ho with flaunting how much he loved tits and ass.

Anyway, Bobby figures that as long as they’re not making a fuss under his roof, everyone can do who ever they want, no business of his. And despite the quibbling, this is the happiest he’s seen Sam and Dean since he doesn’t know how long. So if these two, these angels of theirs, give them a little bit of shoulder to lean on, then they’re alright in Bobby’s book.

He’ll just have to accept them into this little make-shift family that he’s got now. Two angels and the sons of John Winchester, bless his soul. Bunch of idjits is what they are. Gonna cause him more than a few headaches, that’s for sure.

But really, Bobby doesn’t think he’d have any other way.

~

The sounds Dean is making while eating that pie has Gabriel struggling very hard to stop from laughing. But he bites his tongue because this is it. Judgment on his pie means judgment on him.

Not that Gabriel cares what Dean thinks of him anyway. He’s an  _archangel_  for pete’s sake.

 _But_ , Gabriel thinks to himself as he glances at Sam, who catches his eyes and smiles, those big dimples of his creasing his cheeks,  _if it makes it easier on Sam, then what the hell_.

So Gabriel sits and watches with due intensity as Dean takes another bite of the pie he himself made. Classic apple pie with the touch of a heavenly being – how could anyone resist it?

A few minutes later, Dean stops his moaning to roll his head back and sigh happily. He sets his fork down on his plate, looking at Cas, who quirks his eyebrows upward, one of those humanly traits he’s adopted.

And they just stare at each other. Saying absolutely nothing.

_Oh Dad. Sometimes I think you had a sense of humor of your own when you decided to set these two up._

Dean puts an elbow on the table, jabs a finger toward Gabriel and states, “I still hate you.” Cas lets out a short sigh next to him, although because of his teensy smile Gabriel thinks that maybe, just maybe, there’s an unspoken “but” following that sentence.  _But, you can stay. But, I won’t try to kill you. But, you can do horrendously wonderful things to my little brother, even if I’m still not thrilled about it_.

And so, Gabriel counts this as a win.

After that Cas and Dean offer to wash the dishes (meaning Cas offered for the both of them and Dean grudgingly complied), so Bobby went into the living room to get to sleep (“I’m an old man, don’t give me that look”), and Gabriel tugged Sam outside on the porch for a little alone time with his human.

There’s a soft breeze cooling the summer night, the air thick with the sound of cicadas. Gabriel pulls himself up on the porch railing, dangling his legs over the edge, watching Sam as he leans against the railing next to where Gabriel is sitting. Sam once again catches Gabriel’s gaze and smiles. Just smiles at him.

And even only that is enough to make Gabriel’s vessel’s heart go all a-flutter.

“Thank you for tonight,” Sam is saying now, propping one leg up on the railing so that he can look out into – the yard, the sky, Gabriel isn’t sure. He briefly wonders what Sam sees when he looks up at the stars. All Gabriel can see is Heaven.

“Naaah,” Gabriel replies. “Completely for my own benefit. You know how I love to watch you suck at cooking.”

Sam huffs a laugh and nudges him with his foot. Then they sit in silence, listening to the cicadas, Sam admiring the night, Gabriel admiring Sam.

Sometimes Gabriel can’t even believe how big of a soft spot he’s grown for this kid. How making him crack a smile can bring such a feeling of happiness to Gabriel. Maybe it’s because Gabriel can relate to the stress of having overbearing brothers and what seems like the weight of the world on your shoulders. So seeing Sam be able to have just a moment of peace makes everything, all of Gabriel’s efforts, worth it.

Gabriel pushes Sam’s leg down from the railing, pulls him over by his huge hand, stands him right in front of where Gabriel is still sitting. Reaches up, arms around Sam’s neck, leans him down so Gabriel can whisper an I love you against his mouth before kissing him softly, because that’s what Sam needs. That’s what Sam always needs; something safe, something comforting. Sure, he can do with a joke now and then, but really Gabriel just wants to be that somewhere Sam can always call home. That somewhere he can go to when Dean and hunting and the Apocalypse become too much.

Sam lets out a breath through his nose against Gabriel’s cheek before gently taking arms from around his neck and enveloping the angel in a hug of his own instead. And when Sam quietly thanks him again, Gabriel knows that it isn’t just for tonight this time.

Gabriel, an archangel, finds it wonderful that Sam Winchester, a human, can make him feel so alive.

Gabriel has long since abandoned his place in Heaven, coward that he is. But he thinks he can fit in here; with three humans and one of his near-fallen brethren. Try his hand at being part of a family again. Because fucked up as it most definitely is, as much fighting and bickering that goes on, mundane as daily life can tend to be, there’s still that absolute vital factor that keeps them all together, one that is surprisingly lacking in Heaven.

He loves how he has wriggled his way in with Sam and Dean and Cas and Bobby. And he finds himself being thankful for every single one of them.


End file.
